


Yes Molly, I Do Think You Like A Drink

by lilsherlockian1975



Series: Tumblr stuff and other little things [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Drunk Molly, F/M, First Meetings, Sherlolly Appreciation Week, Shoeless Sherlock, pre-sherlolly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-31 23:42:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10909869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilsherlockian1975/pseuds/lilsherlockian1975
Summary: First meeting for Sherlolly Appreciation Week on Tumblr. Here's my theory about Sherlock asking Molly for her help with the Stag Night. "You think I like a... drink?" - Well….





	Yes Molly, I Do Think You Like A Drink

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks go to MizJoley for looking it over for me.
> 
> I own nothing ~Lil~

Molly stumbled to the bench and sat down, glad that she was stationary, even if the rest of the world still seemed to be a bit… wobbly. Her 'friends' had left her at the bus stop, drunk, to head to another pub.

"Stupid, awful, bloody, stupid friends," she mumbled to herself. _I could be kidnaped, or abducted! Wait… that's the same thing._ Looking around to check out her surroundings, she saw a man leant up against building behind her and slightly to her left, smoking a fag.

In the dark all she could make out was that he was tall and wearing a long coat. _Great!_ she thought. _Probably a flasher._ She lowered her head. _Not looking at the crazy man!_

Hearing footsteps, she realised that the flasher was walking closer to her. Molly was very careful not to look at him again. _That's what's you're supposed to do, right? Or was it look at them, try to memorise their face?_ She was confused… well, maybe more drunk than confused.

"Want one?" a deep voice asked her.

Glancing up at the kidnapper/flasher, Molly shook her head, then turned to her right look for the bus. _Where the hell is it?_

"It's coming from this direction," he said, causing Molly to turn her head toward him once again. He was facing away from her, pointing with his cigarette to the West.

"Thanks," she said, trying to sound sober. _Must not let the maniac know I'm compromised_.

"You have a rubbish group of friends, you know that?" he said as he flicked the butt away.

Crazy though he may be, he did have a lovely voice. "Hmm?"

"You're drunk and alone. It's nearly midnight."

"Oh," she said, keeping her face down. _Avoid eye contact with the crazed killer!_ "I'm not alone and I'm not drunk."

He chuckled. "Of course not."

"Ahh… no..." she tried to argue, but really what was she going to say? She was indeed alone, at 11.47 at night and she _was_ drunk.

He walked closer and Molly felt her fear rising, or was it something else?

"Why don't you just call a cab before someone…"

That sentence was never finished because Molly vomited on his _very_ expensive looking shoes.

"You idiot!" he growled.

" _Sorry_ ," she mumbled as she felt someone easing her to lie down on the bench. "Please don't kill and abduct me."

"You got that backwards," he said. Then she watched him pull out surgical gloves from his pocket (yep, definitely a killer!) and take off his shoes, tossing them in a nearby bin.

She closed her eyes for just a second (to make the world stop spinning), but she could still hear him talking. "Mycroft… ( _what's a Mycroft?_ ) Send one of your goons to Hanover Street I've stumbled upon a drunken girl whilst waiting on my contact." He paused and Molly opened her eyes to find him looking at her. "Yes, she's fine. Abandoned by her friends and in fear that I might kill her. Oh, and I need a new pair of shoes," he finished just before ringing off.

She was still staring at the man, _the beautiful, beautiful man,_ she now realised, as he walked over and crouched down so that he was nearly eye level with her. "My brother works for the government. He's sending someone to pick you up. No one's going to kill you… tonight."

"You're fucking beautiful," Molly said as she looked into the most glorious pair of eyes she'd ever seen.

He seemed unimpressed by her assessment of his looks. "Beauty is a construct based on childhood impressions."

"There was nothin' in my childhood like you," she said, still in awe.

The man smirked. "You were celebrating something this evening." He studied her, thinking. "Hen night? No… a new job. Your new job!" he finished, almost excitedly.

"How'd you know that?" she asked.

He didn't respond, just stood and straightened his coat, then pulled out another cigarette and lit it.

"I start tomorrow."

"You'll have a hangover on your first day. Not a good first impression."

"I'll be fine. I did the math," she explained as she sat up.

"You what?"

"I did the math, calculating how much alcohol I could drink and avoid a hangover," she explained.

"Did the numbers not include regurgitation?"

She shrugged. "There were unknown variables."

His head jerked up. "There he is."

Molly looked around and saw no one. "You're going to meet someone _now_? You don't even have shoes on."

"Don't let the car leave until I get back. I'll need my shoes when I return." Then he was gone, jogging around the corner, shoeless.

 _What a strange man,_ she thought. _Beautiful, but strange._

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make me SMILE!


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